musica in auribus meis
by irltooru
Summary: "If you can play that passage like that," he said, leaning closer. "What else could those fingers of yours do?" Orchestra AU. (originally uploaded on by myself, under the same username)
1. back in business

"This is stupid, Iwa-chan," Oikawa scoffed to Iwaizumi. "Of course I got in. Any decent player would."

Iwaizumi would have gladly given Oikawa a good clobbering for feeling so superior, but decided to sort it into his mental list of "stupid things Oikawa says but then regrets it later."

"I mean, weren't they broke last year? It's not like their musicians are any better than that," the trumpet player laughed. "They definitely couldn't say no to me!" He stuck his tongue out. Iwaizumi scowled. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Tooru. If it didn't matter that much to you in the first place, why did you even bother auditioning?"

Oikawa reached over and ruffled Iwaizumi's hair. "C'mon, Iwa-chan! They're obviously a bunch of kids. I heard that even the scrawny little percussionist got in. Quit being so egotistical, you're like a trumpet player!"

Iwaizumi sighed. The irony is tangible. He just insulted himself without realizing it.

"Oikawa-san," Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. "You're a trumpet player."

Oikawa almost dropped his trumpet case when he walked into the rehearsal hall without Iwaizumi, who was parking the car. Instead, he set it on the ground so he could raise his arm and point it directly at the man who was busy rosining his bow.

"Y-you! What the hell are you doing here?"

Kageyama Tobio looked up from his rosin, and blinked nonchalantly.

 _He destroyed us at nationals last year._

It wasn't a direct battle, like a game of volleyball, but it was that last cello concerto that really did it in. Oikawa's dreams with the Fukushima University Symphony Orchestra flew out the window along with his Haydn trumpet concerto. His last year in university was a year of bitter loss, suffering at the bow of a particularly talented cellist.

" _They're obviously a bunch of kids." Oikawa had never felt so wrong._

"Everyone's staring." Iwaizumi lumbered into the rehearsal hall with his baritone sax, punching Oikawa's arm to lower it. That was true. All fifty-seven pairs of eyes were on Oikawa. Mashing his palm into his forehead, he picked up his trumpet and headed to his seat.

"Hey, hey, hey!" A hand reached out and slapped him on the back. Hard. Coughing, Oikawa turned to meet the large, owl-like eyes of his fellow trumpet player. Brandishing his golden instrument, Bokuto Koutarou proceeded to introduce himself in a grand manner. Oikawa smiled and nodded the best he could, and was glad when Maestro Ukai Keishin finally stepped onto the conductor's podium. Dressed in a black t-shirt and ripped jeans, he didn't seem threatening, but Oikawa knew better. He was the grandson of the great Maestro Ukai Ikkei, who did a world tour with the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra. Ukai Keishin inherited his brutality.

Oikawa didn't blink when the sheet music was passed around. The Anvil Chorus. Verdi. He knew this one well.

"Aah?! I've never seen this before," Bokuto hooted on Oikawa's left, his nose an inch away from the music. "Sight reading time!"

 _Seriously? He's never played the Anvil Chorus?_

Swallowing disdain, Oikawa raised his instrument to his lips and braced himself for the worst.


	2. ensemble

It was like being dropped into a tank full of piranhas, but when you land, the vicious little fishes turned out to be stuffed. It wasn't a bad experience after all, and you don't mind it. You don't even want to get out.

Instead of the blaring cacophony of _noise_ that Oikawa expected, it wasn't… half bad. It took Oikawa ten measures to realize that these weren't a bunch of high school amateurs. His ears twitched, and he could pick up all of the accurately placed accents, the excellent intonation, and the communal dynamic contrast. They weren't bad at all.

About halfway through the piece, Oikawa settled and scanned the room, hoping to catch glimpses of anyone else he thought looked familiar. There was Iwaizumi, puffing away on his baritone sax in front of him. Beside him was Kuroo Tetsuro, a clarinetist Oikawa recognized from high school. Looking out a little further, he recognized Daichi Sawamura in the _concertmaster's_ seat, and Sugawara Koushi beside him. Completing the first row of the first violin section was a tall man with long hair, which he kept in a bun behind his head. _What was his name again? Asahina, or something._ Eyes skipping over the second violins and violas, he saw the huge Aone Takanobu hunched over his equally huge double bass, eyebrow-less brows furrowed in concentration. Oikawa recalled his old deskmate nicknaming him the "iron metronome", referencing his solid, steady bass notes. A head of blonde hair sprouted from the cellist sitting in front of him. Oikawa didn't recognize him, but there was something intriguing about the way his face remained perfectly still and blasé as he drew his bow heavily across the strings.

Then Kageyama met Oikawa's glance from the lead cellist's chair, and glared back for a second. _Focus on the damn music._ Oikawa thought that he might have been annoyed, because all of a sudden, he lost control and an unearthly sound issued from his trumpet. _Fuck you, Tobio._ Everyone probably thinks that he's a total amateur now. He swore that he could hear Bokuto sniggering beside him. Swallowing his annoyance, Oikawa pushed through the last few bars, and was relieved when Ukai ended the piece.

Iwaizumi twisted around, rolling his eyes. "What the hell was that, Tooru? It sounded like the potential child of an animate foghorn and a hyena with indigestion." Oikawa shrugged apologetically, sticking his tongue out and flicking up a peace sign to mask his irritation.

"That was…" Ukai paused. "That was mediocre. We have lots of things to work on."

 _Mediocre? That's a first._

Oikawa's arms were sore when the rehearsal finally ended. Ukai worked them hard, even though it was the first session as a new group and even though they're not used to playing together. As he snapped his trumpet case closed, he noticed the blonde cellist thread his way through the crowd to Kuroo, and upon reaching him, take his hand and plant a light kiss on his lips.

"Jeez," Oikawa sighed. "How come a tall lanky guy like him get a boyfriend, and I'm just rotting at the bottom of the trash heap?" He clasped his hand to his chest for dramatic effect, and pretended to swoon.

"Because," Iwaizumi grumbled, swatting Oikawa's shoulder, "you are total and complete garbage, Trashykawa. Also, there's plenty of girls waiting on you. It's your own fault that you never give them anything besides a selfie, you egotistical bastard."

 _Iwa-chan, I don't like girls. You know that, right…!?_

Someone cleared his throat. Oikawa spun around with a sweet smile plastered to his face, ready to socialize with a fellow musician as long as he wasn't…

"Ah, Kageyama-kun!" Iwaizumi patted the sullen cellist on the back. "Did you want to talk to Oikawa here? Well, I'd better get going. Wouldn't want to miss my, uh, family dinner. See ya, Tooru!" Before Oikawa could say a word, stupid Hajime and his bari sax were out the door.

 _Is he leaving? Hey, Iwa-chan! You're supposed to be taking me h-_

"Oikawa-san."

Oikawa let all the air escape from his lungs before replying in a weak voice. "Yes, Kageyama-kun?"

 _How does he know my name?_

"Why do you hate me so much?"

 _Man, this guy is blunt._

Oikawa scratched his head uncomfortably, hesitating before deciding to tell the truth.

"Because you beat me last year with your lame Elgar cello concerto."

Kageyama cocked an eyebrow. "Lame, Oikawa-san?"

Oikawa sighed melodramatically. "It was a shock, having you pound my Haydn into submission with your fat violin." He gripped the handle of his trumpet case, ready to make a run for it."

"If it was lame, Oikawa-san," Kageyama quipped, "then how did we manage to take first place, and you second?"

 _Ah, he got me._

"Gah," Oikawa coughed lamely. "Stop, uh, stop saying my name in every single sentence, will you?"

"I like saying your name, Oikawa-san. It feels good."

Oikawa barely registered the heat of blush on his cheeks before he mumbled a quick excuse and jogged out the door as quickly and casually as he could.


	3. typical

He made it about halfway across the parking lot before stopping and realizing that Iwaizumi's car wasn't where it was two hours ago.

 _That damn bastard!_

Oikawa threw his head back, sighing loudly. The setting sun splattered its golden beams across the clouds, and it would have been beautiful if Oikawa wasn't so incredibly annoyed. Taking a deep breath, he settled on a nearby bench and made a mental list of "things that bothered him" to compose himself:

1\. He lost self-control in front of an inferior.

2\. Kageyama Tobio is blunt and he blushed because of that.

3\. Kageyama Tobio successfully insulted him.

4\. He can't tell if Kageyama Tobio was absolute trash at flirting, or just absolutely amazing at being sarcastic.

5\. His best friend ditched him without reason, and it's almost dark out.

Oikawa let out a groan. Usually, Iwaizumi or his parents dominated the list of "things that bothered him", so why the heck is the majority of this list composed of Kageyama? Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he pulled out his phone to call Iwaizumi, and then to check for the next train home because Iwaizumi ignored all eight of his calls. The train station was a good twenty-minute walk away, but he had no choice.

Hauling himself to his feet and adjusting his grip on the handle of his trumpet case, he began his walk. As he exited the parking lot, his ears perked at the sound of wheels grinding against the concrete sidewalk behind him. Ignoring whoever it was, he continued his way down the street. The sound followed for the next five minutes, accompanied by sneakers slapping against the sidewalk until Oikawa finally allowed himself to peek out of the corner of his eye, and instantly regret it. Kageyama was staring at his phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his face in the fading light. One hand held the device, thumb dancing across the screen, while the other wheeled a cello case in his wake.

"Oi," Oikawa hissed. "Why are you following me?"

"Oikawa-san," he looked up from his screen. "I am not following you. We just happen to be going the same way."

Oikawa turned away and kept walking, nose scrunching in irritation.

They were about halfway into their journey when, as if on cue, the first droplets of water fell from the darkened sky. Cursing, he dove under the nearest overhang, which happened to be a café. Unfortunately, Kageyama seemed to have the same idea and followed suit, the two of them almost colliding. "Watch it," Oikawa growled, smoothing his hair to make sure that it looked its best. Kageyama gazed back at him with steely blue eyes, face expressionless. Oikawa inwardly groaned. From the looks of it, Kageyama didn't have an umbrella, and neither did he.

"Well, I guess we're stuck here until this rain stops," Oikawa sighed. "I can't believe Iwa-chan ditched me!"

 _Why am I talking to him? We just happened to be going the same way, no big deal. I hate him, right? I mean, why are we even chatting amicably? We're barely acquaint-_

"I thought Iwaizumi-san had a family dinner."

Oikawa made sure he had the bitterest expression on his face to further illustrate the point of his abhorrence towards Kageyama before snapping, "He lives alone. It was just a stupid excuse."

Kageyama nodded.

They stood in silence for a few more minutes, and Oikawa debated his options. He could either make a run for it, search for another shelter, risking his carefully styled hair in the process. The other option was to stay here, or worse, _go inside the café_ with Tobio. He was almost ready to start his sprint when Kageyama coughed pointedly. "Do you want to go inside, Oikawa-san?"

 _What do I say? "Uh, no, thanks? I'd rather stand outside while the sky pours buckets and the temperature drops so I don't have to go into this stupid little café with you, sit, and be awkward?_

"Yeah, sure."

The rain finally let up half an hour later, and it was well past eight when it does. It was just as Kageyama predicted: the two of them had sat in silence, sipping their drinks and scrolling around on their phones. It wasn't especially awkward, but Kageyama was definitely not the preferred company Oikawa would have liked to keep.

Oikawa started gathering himself, making a move to go when he felt Kageyama's eyes boring into him. He glanced at him, and was shocked at the intensity there. Oikawa was almost transfixed for a moment, held by his steely blue gaze.

"Oikawa-san."

 _You're annoying. Right?_

Somehow, the past half hour didn't seem so bad.

"Yeah?"

Kageyama spoke deliberately, weighing each of his words before letting them out of his mouth.

"You're a trumpet player."

Oikawa nodded, wondering why he was stating the obvious.

"And I'm a cellist."

 _A pretty damn good one for someone your age._

"Then why," Kageyama blinked. "Why do you have to be so competitive against someone that's not of your own kind?"

 _Oh. He thinks I'm petty._

Oikawa hesitated. "Because you won?"

Kageyama rose to his feet, brushing off his jeans. "Oikawa-san, why don't you get over it?"

 _Excuse me? I'm a musician. I need to win. I need to grab every opportunity and crush my opponents and earn awards._

"Excuse me for saying this, seeing as I might not have had as much musical experience as you," Kageyama murmured, reaching for his cello case. "But our lives are long, right? What's the point of getting hung up on a single grudge you have against a mere university student? You've already graduated, and we have nothing in the area of competition anymore, presently. My orchestra might have achieved a higher standing than yours in the past, but this is the present, Oikawa-san. People change, evolve, and improve. There's no point in focusing on our losses if that means we can't move forward. I am a cellist, and you a trumpet player. It would not be appropriate for anyone to say that one of us would surpass the other, as our instruments and abilities are overwhelmingly different."

Oikawa blinked. _That was… long? Obnoxious? Pretentious?_

"That was beautifully said."

Even Kageyama seemed shocked at Oikawa's sudden burst of genuine compliment. He gave a small bow. "I am glad you think so, Oikawa-san."

 _Suddenly, he doesn't seem so annoying._

Oikawa fumbled for words. "Uh, just Oikawa is fine, I suppose."

Kageyama nodded, and to Oikawa's surprise, a shadow of a smile ghosted Kageyama's lips.

When Oikawa reached the door of the café, he was surprised to find reluctance tugging at his chest. _I would honestly like to get to know more about him._

"After all," Kageyama called after him. "I'd hate for you to think of me unfavourably."


End file.
